Comfortably numb | Stydia fanfiction

Chapter 2

I do not have feeling for Stiles. I do not have feelings for Stiles. Lydia repeats her new mantra in her head, over and over again, as she struts confidently through the halls of Beacon Hills High. This is going to work. I can do this! I do not have feelings for . . .

"Hi Lydia!"

"Stiles," Lydia replies matter-of-factly. Of course, he'd be here . . . testing me. She thinks to herself.

They stand there staring at one another awkwardly for a few moments, until Lydia finally speaks again. "You're standing in front of my locker," she notes with what she hopes is a complete lack of emotion.

I do not have feeling for Stiles.

"Oh . . . yeah . . . sorry about that," replies Stiles, his face reddening, as he tries to move out of Lydia's way. "Listen . . . ahhh . . . with everything that's been happening . . . I never really got a chance to apologize to you for not coming back to talk to you that night, when you were in your car, and you were . . ."

"It's fine," Lydia interrupts brusquely. "No big deal. Completely forgotten."

It is a lie, of course. Stiles' unintentional abandonment of Lydia, just when she was ready to finally open up to him, had hurt Lydia more than he knew. But that doesn't matter now, because she is turning over a new leaf. And she does not . . . absolutely not . . . have feelings for Stiles!

"OK," says Stiles, eyeing her with concern. "But . . . I still want you to know that I meant what I said. I think you look beautiful when you cry . . . and I definitely don't think you're crazy. And if you ever want to talk again I . . ."

The look of sincerity in Stiles eyes when he speaks is fast melting Lydia's resolve. She has to look away, so as not to get drawn in to his stare.

I do not have feelings for Stiles.

She focuses instead on the inside of her locker. Calculus book . . . Chemistry book . . . U.S. History book . . . these are things she understands . . . not like Stiles, who is becoming more of a mystery to her with each passing day.

"You're right, I'm not crazy," Lydia replies resolutely, as she pulls her books from her locker, and slams it closed. "And I wasn't crying. It was just . . . allergies," she concludes, blinking rapidly. It's her tell, after all.

Stiles smiles, clearly unconvinced. "What are you allergic to? I'm allergic to cats . . . and candy corn! I don't know why I just told you that . . ."

Lydia bites her lower lip, flustered. Damn Stiles, and his stupid curiosity! And who the heck is actually allergic to candy corn? "Ahhh . . . new car smell," she fibs, knowing the minute the words escape her lips, how ridiculous they sound.

"Ahhh . . . yes, that pesky new car smell allergy . . . it afflicts us all," Stiles quips.

"Yeah . . . well . . . um . . . bye!" Lydia sputters, as she slings her bookbag over her shoulder, and begins to make her escape.

She feels his hand press against the small of her back, then . . . soothing, comforting, caring. It stops her dead in her tracks. "Lydia . . . are you OK?" He asks gently.

"Yeah, I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be OK?" She answers nervously, focusing intently on the floor.

"I don't know. You just seem a little . . . jumpy . . . frenetic. And I would know, because I'm that way all the time!"

Lydia makes the mistake then, of looking Stiles directly in the eyes. There they are, staring right back at her . . . mocha fudge orbs with flecks of gold. In an instant, memories of last night's dream come flooding back to her . . . the heat of his body against hers, the way his lips felt as they pressed against her own. He is looking at her now the exact same way he looked at her then, right before she . . .

"I'm going to be late for homeroom," Lydia says loudly, before dashing away, leaving Stiles to stare after her, confused.

"But homeroom doesn't start for another ten minutes," replies Stiles, to no one in particular.

Unrequited love sucks. He thinks to himself.

If only he knew . . .

"Lydia . . . wait up!" Allison calls after her red-headed friend, as she barrels down the hall.

"Hi," replies Lydia, plastering a smile on her face that she hopes looks genuine.

She notices Stiles standing alone at the other end of the hall, watching them . . .

"Walk with me," Lydia says insistently, pulling Allison down a Stiles-free hallway. "What's up?"

Allison runs her fingers through her hair, like she always does when she's nervous, or has to say something she doesn't want to say. Lydia steels herself for the worst. "I just wanted to thank you for your help in translating that Latin book, last night," Allison begins tentatively, "And for not asking any questions about why I needed to know what was in it. I know from personal experience how much it sucks to have the people you care about keep things from you. And I want you to know that we all really do want to tell you. It's just that Scott and I . . ."

"I know . . . I know," Lydia interrupts, rolling her eyes. "You're in love . . . and it's epic . . . hearts, stars, red balloons, clover, purple horseshoes, and all those other things you find inside the Lucky Charms box."

Allison grins. "Go ahead, make fun. But it's going to happen to you too, one day . . . maybe sooner than you think."

"I doubt it," Lydia grumbles.

Love isn't exactly my specialty. She thinks. I do not have feelings for Stiles.

"Speaking of boyfriends . . ." Allison begins, her expression suddenly becoming serious.

"Here we go . . ." Lydia mutters under her breath.

"I know you and Jackson have . . . a history together. And that things might have gotten a bit . . . intense . . . between the two of you the other night at Scott's house. But I think you should stay away from him . . . not forever . . . just for now, while he's going through this . . . tough time," Allison offers, carefully choosing her words.

Jackson! Lydia thinks to herself. All these crazy dreams about Stiles had caused Lydia to completely forget about Jackson . . . popular, athletic, Alpha Male Jackson . . . the Prom King to her Prom Queen.

I mean, sure, he had treated her like total crap, most of the time, and had practically ripped her heart out after her "accident." And yes, he had gotten totally hot and heavy with her that night in Scott's house, only to completely abandon her to go Lord knows where, just moments later, with not so much as an explanation or even a text message.

But not everybody could have the love of her life as her high school boyfriend, like Allison. Some people just dated one another because they "fit" together, in the social scheme of things. That was how it was between Lydia and Jackson . . . always had been . . . always would be.

It was then that Lydia realized that Jackson might be the key to solving all her problems. Dating Jackson again would prove to Lydia's classmates that she wasn't a freak. And more importantly, it would stop her from thinking and dreaming about Stiles.

"Thank you, Allison. You really helped me a lot."

"I did?" Allison asks, her face a question mark.

"You did!" Lydia exclaims, surprising the brunette with an unusually affectionate hug. "You're the best. I've gotta go. See you at lunch!"

And with that, a newly invigorated Lydia dashes down the hall, leaving yet another one of her friends to stare after her in confusion.